


little forest

by theairwascold



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Little Forest AU, M/M, Onigiri Miya, Timeskip, Volleyball Player Atsumu, cooking together, farmer kita, sharing food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theairwascold/pseuds/theairwascold
Summary: Going through a myriad of seasons with Kita Shinsuke as their relationship grows, Miya Osamu has never felt more at peace.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Osamu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	little forest

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first time writing a Haikyuu!! fanfic, so I apologize in advance for all the errors and inaccuracies. Happy reading, especially to those Little Forest lovers :)

It does get easier.

It applies for both the letting go and the adjustment with his surroundings. However, waiting for a family member to show up as autumn turns summer into a brief orange dot of old-news transition requires a bit more patience.

He keeps telling Atsumu that, _yes, I’m okay_ , out of repressed longing. Not letting his volleyball player twin coming all the way to visit him in the middle of his bustle has become his determined goal. He misses the good old times when sharing food didn’t require a shipping charge. It was as easy as forming a circle on their dining table; rolled omelette for breakfast, two boxes of bento for lunch at school (Atsumu would come to his class during break time to steal his twin’s pickled plums despite already having his own portion), stir fry vegetables and salmon teriyaki for dinner. _What did Atsumu eat for today?_ has become his nightly routine musing. When he feels exceptionally nostalgic, the thought turns into, _Is he taking care of himself well?_

He keeps telling Kita, too, that, _yes, I’m okay_ , but out of compassion; out of his inordinate and hopeful wish to _be_ so, or to _remain_ so. They were lying down side by side on a webbing mat in front of Osamu’s house one time, and while the wind was not merciless, he found himself shuddered multiple times. There was a perfectly soft hair that belonged to his own lover next to him and naturally, his hand should be able to reach it out, but it remained trembling as he propped his own head. Being in close proximity with Kita Shinsuke feels like the first time every time. “Have you ever thought about the long process of rice cultivation, from the beginning ― the planting process ― until it becomes edible rice balls that you sell at your shop?”

Osamu had, in fact, thought about it. Kita is a hardworking farmer, they live in a rural area in which most of the population works as farmers, and Osamu thinks about Kita all the time, so _naturally_ , such thought does cross his mind often. “We wield our tools and plant our seeds, we wait as the downpour fills the gutters and quenches our soil, we go back and we use more tools to reap the golden crops before we separate the rice from its straw, we bundle it up, we distribute, and then we finally cook it.” Kita looked up at the clear night sky. His palms were rubbed against each other. (How envious Osamu was of a pair of his beautiful hands! He wished he could be the one warming him up.) “I want my life to have such meaningful value. If everything ends by tomorrow, I want to be able to witness the outward contribution and outcome.”

But what is Kita if not worthwhile? What is Kita if not made of dreams and dedication? His words still ring true in Osamu’s ears up until now: _I am built upon the small things I do everyday, and the results are no more than a byproduct of that._ But what is Osamu if not attentive and loving, especially toward a significant someone?

It was also the same night Kita Shinsuke said it out loud and directly, without his nonexistent telepathy, without any walls in between their hearts: “I love you. I want what we have to be fruitful.”

What are Kita Shinsuke and Miya Osamu if not thoroughly in love?

In the morning of a hot summer day, Osamu closes his onigiri shop to help Kita out in the field. Already packed two boxes of lunch, they share glances like they share their meals. Intimate and joyful. “Despite eating multiple times a day, you instantly get hungry,” Osamu speaks as he finishes chewing the first bite of his own onigiri. “And every time you eat, you feel happy. And no matter how many times you experience it, that feeling of happiness never goes away.”

The view in front of them is a part of their daily routine. Greenery and vast blue sky. He could see herons flying as clear as he sees Kita’s beads of sweat running down to his left cheek from his temple. Dipping his foot into the mud, he makes a mental chant of gratitude for these small things he didn’t get to relish when they were still in high school, time was profusely preoccupied by volleyball rehearsals.

The whisper Osamu lets out is barely audible, but what is Kita if not a good listener? “I want to live our life like we eat our food. I want to love you like I eat my food.”

In the winter afternoon, they enter Onigiri Miya’s kitchen. Kita is already shaping the warm rice between his palms while Osamu is looking at his boyfriend with a fond gaze. “Take those off, you dumbo,” Kita is beckoning to Osamu’s mittens.

“No. I want to look at you.”

“I’m seriously going to shape a cube out of this if you don’t get started now.”

Osamu’s laughter has to be made out of addictive substances, Kita can’t get enough of that.

In the midst of their hassle of serving customers and preparing for the orders, Osamu finds comfort in this new environment and routine activity. As the night falls, Osamu, Kita, and Osamu’s staff ― Kuroo and Kenma ― decide to call it a day before having a drink together.

During spring, flowers are blooming along with the ceasing awkwardness between two lovebirds. Distance has become their enemies. Casual touches adorn their skins, and sometimes when the nights are quiet enough around Osamu’s house, or when Kita’s grandmother stays over at a relative’s house nearby, kisses and heated traces made by each other’s fingers do their parts too. Their little shenanigans are accompanied by the rustles of leaves and branches, sounds of night animals, and the everlasting moonlight that goes through their window. The riverbank does not miss the opportunity to become their constant and loyal witness as well. Apples, pears, tomatoes, persimmons; they bring all the harvested fruits ― from their own farms ― by the river and peel them off, feeding each other slice by slice, everything is at peace as they twirl the fruit against their swirling tongues.

Autumn is spent crafting a pumpkin.

“This is the only western tradition I tolerate,” Osamu states in the middle of sculpting jack-o’-lantern’s left eye.

“This is the only western tradition you know.”

“You’re not wrong. It’s to keep the _oni_ away.”

They don’t finish it nor do the evil spirits come. Onigiri Miya remains open and Osamu’s secret recipe seems to attract even more customers despite the small population in their village (he swears that he meets at least one new face every day, asking for a salmon or beef filling).

“Do you miss practicing, Samu?” Kita asks one day. Osamu is weighing the brown sugar he’s about to use to bake cookies. Kita is preparing other tools.

“Yeah.” Osamu doesn’t even have to ask what Kita means. He reminisces the memories he spent on the court, spiking and receiving. However, just like Kita, it’s no longer the path he chooses. They still watch some recordings of their old competitions. Osamu is more than aware of the blazing sparks in Kita’s eyes. He knows that Kita doesn’t regret his choice at all, but recounting a profound memory does rekindle one’s youthful spirit and its nostalgia could make Kita ― _them_ ― shed a tear or two. “I know you do, too.”

“I do. I miss the people.” _Sugar. Flour. Choco chips._

“We could always hold a reunion, Shinsuke.”

That night, they end up rewatching their old games. As always, Osamu sees the infamous smile of pride from his ― _their_ ― captain returns.

•••

“Samu, I have a surp―”

“SAMU!”

“Holy shit.” Osamu almost drops his precious onigiri. _His precious onigiri_ , goddamn it!

“Hold your profanity until your brother officially hugs you!” Atsumu’s crash feels like coming home.

“You’re here!”

“I am here!”

“I m―”

“You little shit, don’t cut yourself mid sentence and say you miss your twin brother!”

“You’re still a piece of shit, I see.”

Atsumu’s laughter is almost covered by his deepening sob. It has been countless seasons for Osamu and endless games for Atsumu. Osamu remembers exactly how he decided to quit volleyball like it was just yesterday; the anticipation and the fear of Atsumu’s disappointment. He couldn’t be more blissful that they’re where they are now.

 _So-you-two-got-together-?_ and _how-has-the-shop-been-doing-?_ conversation surprisingly goes smooth. Osamu is eager to tell his brother about his daily activity since he moved out, but he’s aware that it mostly consists of cooking and snuggling next to Kita, making onigiri, and farming. He knows that Atsumu would listen attentively no matter what he says, but it’s easier to _show_ him than to talk about it. So, he turns the spotlight to his twin who’s just as eager to recount all his journey. Never did Osamu miss his game. Everyone in the village knows his habit of wearing a MSBY Black Jackal jersey with 'MIYA' written on the back of it whenever his brother plays, asking his neighbors around to gather and watch the game at his shop. Kita is there all along, too: next to Osamu, holding his hand; in the kitchen, cheering for Atsumu while unconsciously yelling “Inarizaki!” out loud.

“When you feel drained, come here. When you’re starving, come here.”

That cold winter night, a special dinner is served for Atsumu: a tuna and spring onion rice ball made with fresh rice from Kita’s farm.

**Author's Note:**

> Aside from the fact that English is not my native language, I am perfectly aware of the lack of elaboration and researches done toward Japanese culture and name usage. For that reason, I deeply apologize & will learn more. Little Forest: Summer/Autumn (2014), Little Forest: Winter/Spring (2015), and Little Forest (2018) helped me to shape the fundamental idea of this entire fanfic. Unfortunately, my rusty memories have done anything but to contribute in writing a lot aspects from those movies. With that, I apologize too.
> 
> I thank Cate, my friend, for encouraging me to write this, and Dean, for being the first reader of this work. I love you guys!
> 
> Thank you so much for taking your time reading this <3


End file.
